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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions 


institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


1980 


Technical  Notes  /  Notes  techniques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Physical 
features  of  this  copy  which  may  alter  any  of  the 
images  in  the  reproduction  are  checked  below. 


n 
n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couvertures  de  couleur 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6color6es,  tachetdas  ou  piqudes 


Tight  binding  (may  cause  shadows  or 
distortion  along  interior  margin)/ 
Reliure  serrd  (peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou 
de  la  distortion  le  long  de  la  marge 
int^rieure) 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Certains 
difauts  suscaptibles  de  nuire  d  la  qualitd  de  la 
reproduction  sont  not6s  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 

D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


Coloured  plates/ 
Planches  en  couleur 


Show  through/ 
Transparence 


Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommag^es 


Tl 

P" 
u1 
fil 


Tl 

C( 

Ol 

ai 

Tl 
fi 
in 


l\/ 
in 

u| 
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D 


Additional  comments/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires 


Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  bibliographiques 


D 
D 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 


n 


Pagination  incorrect/ 
Erreurs  de  pagination 


Pages  missing/ 
Des  pages  manquent 


n 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


Plates  missing/ 

Des  planches  manquent 


D 


Maps  missing/ 

Des  cartes  g^ographiques  manquent 


Q 


Additional  comments/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires 


Includes  supplementary  material. 


i 

ns 
la 


The  images  app'jaring  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
uf  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  ontract  specifications. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche  shall 
contain  the  symbol  — ^-  (meaning  CONTINUED"), 
or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"),  whichever 
applies. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tonu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettetd  de  i'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la  der- 
nidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le  cas: 
le  symboie  — ^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le  symbole 
V  signifie  "FIN". 


The  original  copy  was  borrowed  from,  and 
filmed  with,  the  kind  consent  of  the  following 
institution: 

Library  of  the  Public 

Archives  of  Canada 


L'exr  .tplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grdce  d  la 
g6ndrosit6  de  I'^tablissement  prdteur 
suivant  : 

La  bibliothdque  des  Archives 

publiques  du  Canada 


Maps  or  plates  too  large  to  be  entirely  included 
in  one  exposure  are  filmed  beginning  in  the 
upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to  right  and  top  to 
bottom,  as  many  frames  as  required.  The 
following  diagrams  illustrate  the  method: 


Les  cartes  ou  les  planches  trop  grandes  pour  dtre 
reproduites  en  un  seul  clichd  sont  filmdes  d 
partir  de  I'angle  sup6rieure  gauche,  de  gaurhe  d 
droite  et  de  haut  an  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Le  diagramme  suivant 
illustre  la  m^thode  : 


1 

2 

3 

12  3 

4  5  6 


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NUGyE   CANORyE 


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Nuga:  Canorae 


BY  A.  G.  D. 


1- 1 


W        \iii        Vlt 

it        I        «? 


PORTLAND,  MAINE 

SMITH  &  SALE,  45  EXCHANGE  STREET 

MDCCCXCVII 


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2501 


£-^70f 


TO  MISS  EDYTHE  NEH^M/tN 


My  Dear  Edytbe : 

Nugce  Canorce  is  not  a  pretty 
title  for  a  book,  and  therefore  not  coiiipli- 
mentary  toj>ou. 

Yon  are,  however,  a  lover  of  truth,  and 
it  is  absolutely  true. 

A.  G.  D. 

Montreal,  June  i,  i8gj. 


I 


r' 


CONTENTS 


To  Edythe       .... 
To  THE  Queen 

To  H.  R.  H.  Prince  Consort 
Lancelot  and  Guinevere 
The  Rose  and  the  Lily 
Vita  Nuova      .... 
Lines  for  the  Unveiling  of  the  Monu 
ment  to  Sir  J.  A.  Macdonald 

Where  Silence  Lives    . 

A  Dream  of  Youth 

The  Passing  of  Tennyson 

To  My  Mother 

A  Welcome  to  Sir  Wilfred  Laurier 

A  Farewell 

Crossing  the  Bar 

To  Ethelreda 

Far  Away,  Far 

The  Lifeless  Flower    . 

A  Vision  of  the  Night 

Sing,  O  1  Sing  that  Song  again 


I 

PAGB 

»3 
IS 
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31 

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45 

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51 


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»  n 


CONTENTS 

To  Sir  James  M.  LeMoine    . 

To  Princess  Mary  of  Teck 

In  Memoriam   Prince  Henry  of 

BERG        .... 

A  Child's  Prayer 

To  Miss  Jane  Newman 

In  Memoriam  E.  F.  H. 

Fancy  and  Imagination 

To  Hilda 

Helen  and  Aphrodite 


PAGE 

52 
S3 

54 
55 
56 
57 
58 
61 

63 


54 
55 
5^^ 
57 
58 
6 1 

63 


I 


T 


PREFACE 

HE  plate  used  in  this  volume  is  made  from  a  draw- 
ing hy  (Mr.  Taul  Caron,  to  whom  mj>  thanks 
are  due,  for  the  talent  he  has  bestowed  on 
the  subject.    I  am  also  indebted  to 
(Messrs.  Smith  &  Sale  for  the 
excellent  manner  in 
which  the  book  is 
printed. 


A.  G.  D. 


Monlretl,  1897. 


T 


NUGi^    CANORi^ 


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V 

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feK.i\lB3UKKI 


fO  EDYTHE 


4 


AMIDST  the  world's  tumultuous  din, 
The  battle  keen  for  rank  and  place, 
Where  might  is  right,  and  wealth  may  win 

A  crown,  and  even  worth  efface ; 
Not  here  I'll  seek,  or  find  thy  name 
Inscribed  upon  the  roll  of  fame. 

Nor  in  the  sun's  voluptuous  hour 

When  life  is  tinged  with  crimson  glow ; 

Where  many  a  still  most  regal  flower 
Seems  half  abashed  its  face  to  show ; 

Not  here  I'll  seek,  or  find  thy  name 

Entwined  among  those  flowers  of  fame. 

But  when  the  rose  with  dew  is  wet, 
And  near  God's  throne  the  stars  have  met ; 
When  Luna  crowned  with  mystic  power 
Draws  sweetness  from  each  hidden  flower;  • 
'Tis  then  I'll  think  of  Edythe's  name 
Inscribed  upon  the  roll  of  fame. 

And  when  among  the  leafy  boughs 
The  nightingale's  soft  music  rolls ; 

When  lovers'  sweetly  whispered  vows. 
Steal,  as  that  music,  o'er  their  souls ; 

This  is  the  hour  when  Edythe's  name 

Is  woven  with  the  flowers  of  fame. 

In  gentle,  loving,  household  ways, 

In  walks  of  letters  and  of  art, 
Shalt  thou,  throughout  thy  range  of  days 

Obtain  the  empire  of  the  heart, 
And  weave  thyself,  around  thy  name 
An  auriole  of  sweetest  fame. 


XUl 


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re 


^ 


"E 


mm 


TO  THE  QUEEN'S  MOST  EXCELLENT 
MAJESTY 

JUNE  20th,  1897 

NO  monument  which  art  may  raise 
Can  speak  to  ages  of  Thy  fame 
Like  these  few  words  twined  with  Thy  name, 
"  Enthroned  upon  Thy  people's  praise." 


XV 


ti 


i 


iii 


I 


i 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  H.  R.  H. 
7HE  PRINCE  CONSORT 


ONCE  more  returns  the  sad  December  eve, 
That  in  its  train  will  tender  memories  leave 
Of  tears  and  sorrow  —  vanished  loveliness 
Long  mourned  in  silence  and  in  loneliness  — 
Of  Love  harmonious,  and  that  deep  scene 
Which  once  encircled  England's  loyal  Queen. 
Yet  o'er  the  mournful  message  of  that  day 
Eternal  Love  hath  shed  His  kindly  ray, 
And  points  beyond  the  purple  sunset  skies 
To  where  a  brighter  prospect  seems  to  rise. 


il 


II 

What  thongh  the  mortal  image  fades  and  dies 
The  deeds  of  virtue  from  the  tomb  arise ! 
E'en  though  the  splendour  of  the  sun  hath  set 
The  lamp  of  memory  fondly  lingereth  yet. 
Twined  with  the  laurels  of  enduring  fame, 
The  deathless  glory  of  a  deathless  name 
Still  gilds  the  cycles  of  the  years  which  roll. 
With  lustre  borrowed  from  the  lofty  soul : 
For  in  eternal  youth  such  souls  remain 
A  smile  from  God,  returned  to  God  again. 

Ill 

These  to  his  memory,  consecrated,  rest, 
As  blending  all  imperfectly  with  themes 
On  which  in  life  he  loved  full  oft  to  dwell. 


xvtt 


TO    H.  R.  H.    PRINCE   CONSORT 

And  since  thro'  him  these  old  world  tales  now  seem 

Of  more  enduring  worth  since  loved  by  him, 

My  fancy  of  the  dying,  blameless  King, 

Of  brave  Sir  Launcelot  and  Guinevere 

Shall,  in  all  reverence  and  humility 

Be  henceforth  with  his  memory  intertwined. 

For  as  the  poet  in  his  vision  saw 
In  his  great  life  a  pure  and  faultless  type 
Of  that  true  manhood  which  should  sway  the  world ; 
So  now,  when  time  hath  proved  the  deeds  of  life, 
His  deeds  remain  his  noblest  monument. 
And  in  this  dawning  year  of  Jubilee 
When  thought  is  turned  to  our  beloved  Queen, 
The  memory  lingers  on  those  brighter  years 
When  His  dear  presence  stood  so  near  the  throne. 
For  ever,  graven  on  the  nation's  heart. 
Unchanged  by  time,  his  lofty  figure  stands 
Crowned  by  the  age  his  life  adorned,  and  crowned 
By  after  ages  as  the  Just,  the  Good. 

December,  1896. 


XVIU 


LANCELOT   AND  GUINEVERE 


I 


UJl 

1  = 

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n 


"SoTVL.  —  Lanfelot  and  Guhuvere  forms 
the  first  of  a  scries  of  tales  founded  on 
the  Idylls  of  the  King,  Mallory's  Morte 
D'Arthur  &c.,  hereafter  to  be  published 
under  the  title  of  "The  Knights  of  Old." 


LANCELOT  AND  GUINEVERE 


THE  bravest  of  the  brave,  Sir  Lancelot, 
The  flower  of  Arthur's  court  at  Camelut 
I  lad  from  the  noise  of  arms  withdrawn, 
And  in  the  calmness  of  seclusion  sought 
To  calm  the  voice  of  Conscience,  and  redeem 
liy  deeds  of  alms,  the  deeds  that  flesh  had  wrought. 
But  ever  in  his  ears  the  echoes  rang 
Of  sad  sweet  music  sung  unceasingly 
Like  those  weird  tones,  which  float  upon  the  breeze 
As  waves  in  surging  turmoil  lash  the  rocks, 
And  never  ceasing,  never  change  or  tire. 
And  oft  times  from  the  past  a  voice  arose 
As  of  King  Arthur  speaking  as  of  old 
"  Is  all  then  well,  is  all  so  well  with  thee  ? " 
And  in  the  deep  set  shades  of  Avignon 
Sir  Lancelot  retired  at  close  of  eve 
To  commune  with  his  soul ;  and  in  a  dream 
Revolved  the  many  scenes  of  Camelot. 
Now  first  appeared  before  the  weary  Knight 
The  far-off-loveliness  of  Love's  young  dream, 
The  dawn  of  May,  the  fullness  of  the  Spring 
When  Love  and  Spring,  and  Guinevere  were  one ; 
For  this  was  ere  the  breath  of  slander  fell 
And  linked  the  fairest  of  the  fair  with  those 
Who  flourish  in  the  garden  of  this  world 
As  doth  the  noxious  weed,  whose  touch  is  death. 

And  on  this  morn  of  May,  fair  as  the  morn 
The  Queen  arose,  and  decked  herself  with  flowers. 
While  o'er  the  earth  the  joyous  sun  of  May 
Shone  in  the  splendour  of  his  kingly  power. 
So  Guinevere  from  out  her  casement  looked 


it  m.\ 


XXI 


1^ 


ll'l 


LANCELOT   AND   GUINEVERE 


I    J! 


If 


On  all  the  beauteous  world  beneath  her  feet; 
Made  beauteous  by  high  God,  for  those  who  keep 
Pure  hearts,  and  undefiled,  and  free  from  ill : 
E'en  as  those  faithful  souls  whose  prayers  ascend 
As  clouds  of  incense  to  the  great  white  throne. 
And  Guinevere,  while  musing  on  the  scene 
Bethought  her  of  a  noble,  god-like  Knight 
The  prince  of  Knights,  so  gentle,  and  so  brave 
And  more  of  mortal  than  the  blameless  King. 
For  oft  to  her  the  brilliance  of  her  lord 
Seemed  as  the  sun  in  heaven,  too  full  of  light 
An  unapproachable  for  those  of  earth  ; 
Yet  lovely  in  his  sphere,  and  fit  to  move 
In  orbit  more  ethereal,  whence  the  suns 
Of  lower  worlds  may  borrow  radiance,  warmth. 
And  life.     So  thought  the  Queen,  and  oft  in  dreams 
Sir  Lancelot  was  crowned  in  Arthur's  stead. 
And  happy  in  this  dangeroui  love  she  moved 
Through  household  ways,  and  quiet  converse  drew 
Two  souls  of  noble  birth,  and  courtly  grace 
Together.    And  as  yet  their  love  was  pure ; 
Nor  dreamed  they  then  that  ere  another  May 
The  sun  would  shine,  and  storms  would  sweep  away 
Their  love,  their  trust,  the  noble  Table  Round 
And  all  its  glorious  imagery,  to  dust. 

And  ever  and  anon  the  vision  changed, 
And  from  the  midst  of  Camelot  arose 
A  garden,  fair  as  ever  painter  drew 
Laved  by  the  limpid  waters  of  the  lake. 
Wherein  there  grew  one  flower,  more  white,  more  pure. 
More  fragrant  than  all  Flora's  sweetest  flowers. 

Then  Lancelot  in  eagerness  and  love 
Stretched  forth  his  hand  to  pluck  the  faultless  flower, 


xxli 


'^-  .V  )'^ 


LANCELOT  AND   GUINEVERE 


I 


When  lo !  the  blossom  vanished  and  the  Queen 

Clothed  in  pure  white,  stood  in  its  place,  and  said : 

"  Unto  thy  King,  unto  thyself,  be  true." 

And  speaking  thus  she  passed  among  the  flowers 

And  darkness  followed  and  an  aching  void. 

Again  his  fancy  wove  a  pleasing  chain 

Of  all  the  glory  of  the  Table  Round 

And  of  the  havoc  wrought  by  sin  until 

Afar,  "  the  noise  of  battle  rolled,"  and  he, 

The  champion  of  the  tourney  and  the  field, 

Felt  coursing  through  his  veins  like  raging  fire 

The  thrill  of  action  and  of  victory; 

Yet  ere  the  conflict  o'er,  his  thoughts  would  turn 

To  Guinevere,  his  love,  his  life,  his  prize. 

Once  more  there  followed  calmer  moods,  and  high 

Above  all  care,  and  toil,  and  din  of  earth, 

In  spotless,  uncreated  grandeur  loomed 

The  wondrous  vision  of  the  Holy  Grail. 

And  near  the  blessed  sign,  three  maidens  fair 

All  clothed  in  white,  beyond  all  knowing  fair. 

Stood  as  in  silent  adoration,  while 

Strains  not  of  earth,  rose  sweetly  round  the  Grail. 

And  in  their  hands  they  bore  a  victor's  crown 

Yet  not  of  laurels,  but  composed  of  thorns. 

And  one,  more  beauteous  than  the  twain,  approached, 

And  as  to  softest  music  spake  and  said  — 

"  Gird  thou  the  heavenly  armour  for  the  quest 

And  leave  behind  the  world  and  Guinevere." 

Deep  silence  reigned ;  and  o'er  his  troubled  soul 
There  softly  stole,  as  steal  the  purple  shades 
Across  the  golden  mantle  of  the  sun, 
A  flood  of  rapturous  light,  so  calm  and  still 
That  all  the  world  seemed  hushed  at  its  sweet  will 


I  J 


XXlll 


LANCELOT  AND  GUINEVERE 


m 


V, 


And  paused,  while  God  and  man  communion  held. 

Then  strong  in  strength  of  nobler  worlds  the  Knight 

Behind  him  cast  the  thoiights  of  earth,  and  strove 

To  gain  alone  the  crown  of  thorns,  which  seemed 

Of  more  ermuring  worth  than  gold,  or  those 

Whi(,h  in  the  tourney  fall  from  ladies'  hands. 

And  so  there  passed,  in  rapid  order,  all 

The  many  scenes,  in  Arthur's  court  the  while 

Had  made  the  sum  of  human  life  and  love. 

Then  waking  from  his  dream  he  pondered  v.-el! 

On  those  cad  scenes  with  pleasure  intertwined, 

When  human  happiness,  and  human  love 

Such  as  few  mortals  know,  was  known  to  him. 

For  since  that  long  remembered  morn  of  May 

He,  as  the  queen,  in  exile  and  remorse 

Had  striven  daily  to  redeem  the  past. 

And  as  he  pondered,  once  again  a  voice 

That  nought  could  silence,  smote  upon  his  ear ; 

A  plaintive  voice,  more  subtle  than  the  sound 

Of  mortal  voice,  or  music's  sweetest  tone. 

Which  in  its  sadness,  seemed  to  breathe  the  prayer 

Of  Guinevere,  who  turned  to  him  in  tears. 

Then  I^ancelot  by  mournful  sadnesj  moved 

Sought  out  the  solace  of  an  ancient  shrine. 

In  prayer  to  dwell  upon  the  will  of  heaven. 

And  as  he  prayed  before  his  mind  arose 

A  picture  of  the  dying,  blameless  King, 

Slain  by  his  own,  who,  faithless  to  their  vows 

Had,  in  the  midst  of  virtue,  sown  but  vice. 

Lo!  here,  upon  the  face  of  Arthur,  cold 

As  sculptured  marble,  in  the  sleep  of  Death, 

He  read,  in  grief,  a  gentle,  mute  reproach. 

And  as  he  gazed  upon  that  Kingly  form 


\xiv 


m 


I^B^y^gBI^ 


LANCELOT   AND   GUINEVERE 


^W 


That  calmly  in  unruffled  slumber  slept, 

The  Knight  bethought  him  of  his  own  brief  life 

And  of  its  contrast  to  that  nobler  one. 

But  even  now  his  thoughts  drew  near  to  her 

Who  in  the  beauty  of  a  perfect  life 

Had  made  the  glory  of  the  King's, 

Until  across  her  pathway  he  had  come 

And  robbed  her  of  her  peace,  her  joy,  her  love. 

Why  leave  her  thus  ?    E'en  in  this  sacred  place 

Dark  midst  the  darkness  of  a  dying  faith 

Her  presence  made  all  light,  and  lit  again 

The  lamp  of  love,  by  which  his  faith  could  live. 

Thus  musing  on  her  beauty  and  their  love, — 

The  living  bond  of  two  bright  souls  —  yet  dead 

Unto  each  other,  severed  by  their  choice. 

As  ill  according  with  those  laws  which  prove 

So  oft  on  earth  man's  glory  and  his  bane, 

He  vowed  once  more  to  see  her,  and  once  more 

To  claim  her  as  the  brightest  gift  of  heaven. 

And  strong  in  this  resolve,  he  took  to  horse 

And  rode  o'er  mount  and  valley,  till  he  came 

Within  the  bounds  of  ancient  Camelot. 

The  winding  street,  with  many  a  gabled  roof 
Stood  as  in  days  of  old,  save  on  one  side 
A  fortress  rose  fresh  from  the  masons'  hands, 
And  on  the  other  side,  in  contrast  sad 
The  ruined  grandeur  of  King  Arthur's  court. 
In  silence  through  the  one  time  noble  arch 
Sir  Lancelot  moved  slowly,  chilled  with  fear. 
How  changed  the  picture  to  the  days  of  old, 
When  at  his  entry  silver  trumpets  blared 
And  silken  tokens  waved  from  lily  hands  I 
Now  all  was  gloom,  and  desolation,  deep. 


i  J 


XXV 


LANCELOT  AND  GUINEVERE 


Ik 


And  ruin,  marred  the  pride  of  Arthur's  court. 

No  more  the  stately  walls  and  bastions  stood 

Erect,  defying  sword,  or  onward  march 

Of  belted  legion,  or  of  heathen  host. 

Where  once  the  flower  of  virtue  reigned  supreme 

And  Truth  and  Honour  bound  all  loyal  hearts 

In  bond  of  union  to  a  godlike  cause, 

Now  grew  the  noxious  weeds  where  reptiles  hide. 

And  round  the  lofty  throne,  whence  Arthur's  word 

Fell  on  his  Knights  as  law ;  and  brilliant  wit 

Flashed  as  a  meteor  'cross  the  sky,  arose 

A  silence  far  more  eloquent  than  words. 

And  Lancelot  drew  nearer  to  the  shrine 

Where  in  the  Virgin's  honour  he  had  knelt 

And  vowed  to  serve  one  only,  him  the  King. 

And  still  before  the  crumbling  altar  stood 

The  eastern  wall,  filled  with  its  storied  glass, 

Through  which,  in  purple  and  in  crimson  rays 

Streamed  down  the  golden  light,  which  erstwhile  fell 

In  softened  splendour  on  the  silent  forms 

Of  saints,  illumined  by  the  hand  Divine, 

Who  sleep  in  everlasting  sanctity. 

'Twas  here  he  first  beheld  that  perfect  form. 

That  form,  beyond  all  others,  beautiful. 

Here  on  this  spot  they  made  their  sad  farewell, 

Farewell  to  brightest  hopes,  to  love's  brief  dream. 

Change,  nought  but  change — yet  each  remembered  scene 

Robbed  of  its  beauty  seemed  with  him  to  mourn. 

Thus  passed  the  hours,  when  lo  I  before  the  porch 

In  time-worn  garments  stood  the  withered  sage. 

The  ancient  Merlin,  stern,  with  visage  wan. 

With  outstretched  hands,  in  feeble,  faltering  tones 

The  old  man  spake,  and  thus  addressed  the  Knight 


XXVI 


LANCELOT   AND   GUINEVERE 

Whom  seek  ye  here  ?     Why  pause  to  dwell 

Where  ruin  reigns  as  lord! 
Here  Virtue  wore  the  cloak  of  Hell 

And  Truth  the  demon's  sword ! 

Here  on  the  bended  knee  men  swore 

In  holiness  to  die, 
And  yonder  by  Caerleon's  shore 

They  gave  their  vow  the  lie. 

And  I,  alone,  this  altar  tend. 

And  pray  that  soon  the  day 
May  come,  when  I  my  body  lend 

With  it  to  pass  away. 


But  tarry  not  within  these  crumbling  walls 

Where  desolation  triumphs;  seek  to  gain 

The  noblest  crown  which  decks  the  victor's  brow 

In  strife  more  noble  than  the  strife  of  arms. 

Go,  seek  the  Queen  in  yonder  sanctuary 

And  heal  thy  soul,  while  yet  'tis  called  to-day. 

Then  Lancelot  drew  nearer  to  the  sage 

To  speak  with  him  concerning  Guinevere 

And  somewhat  learn  of  that  which  followed  since 

The  days  when  he  and  Merlin  walked  the  woods 

Or  tarried  in  the  shades  of  Camelot ; 

But  ere  the  Knight  his  purpose  could  fulfil, 

The  sage  had  vanished  and  was  seen  no  more. 

In  loneliness,  the  loneliness  of  grief 

He  viewed  the  fallen  splendour  of  the  court 

And  tears  fell  fast  and  faster  as  he  felt 

The  glory  which  had  been  and  was  no  more. 

Then  taking  up  his  sword,  in  haste  he  left 


XXVll 


i.1 


^FTI 


LANCELOT   AND   GUINEVERE 

His  VOW  to  keep  and  converse  with  the  Queen. 

Full  many  a  league  in  silence  rode  the  Knight 

Until  he  reached  the  gate  of  Almsbury. 

And  there  within  the  silent  cloister  walked 

With  drooping  head,  the  Queen  of  Camelot. 

Too  full  the  measure  of  his  love  for  words 

As  he  beheld  that  one  time  faultless  form 

More  lovely  in  the  light  of  heavenly  love. 

Now  voiceless  all  the  passion  which  once  swayed 

In  boundless  tumult  through  his  mighty  frame. 

Now  all  was  changed,  and  in  its  place  a  calm ; 

A  calm  and  peace  which  moved  through  tears  and  pain 

To  deeper  love,  and  wrought  into  his  soul 

The  one  desire,  to  live  with  her  in  heaven. 

Yet  as  the  Queen  with  saddened,  upturned  face 

Looked  on  the  Knight  with  her  most  beauteous  smile 

The  love  of  old  returned  once  more,  and  he 

So  strong  and  brave,  felt  as  a  little  child. 

Then  in  a  faltering  voice  he  told  the  Queen 

Of  his  deep  sorrow,  and  his  deeper  love 

And  bade  her  turn  again  with  him  and  live 

Together  as  one  life  to  part  no  more. 

Then  Guinevere,  as  sweetly  as  of  yore, 

Dade  him  once  more  to  leave  her  to  that  peace 

By  prayer  and  fasting  she  might  one  day  gain. 

For  through  thy  love,  said  she,  '  I  am  undone. 

Yet  think  not  that  thy  love  I  do  despise, 

But  rather  pray  for  me  that  through  thy  love 

I  purify  myself  to  higher  love. 

Perchance,  hereafter,  when  the  time  shall  come 

When  love  is  undivided  and  we  share 

In  all  its  fulness  and  undying  love. 

Thy  soul  may  mate  with  mine,  and  I  shall  know 


xxviu 


^^^ 


*i,v 


IT 


LANCELOT  AND  GUINEVERE 

As  now  I  know  not,  love's  deep  mystery. 

Now  turn  again  to  thine  own  land  and  wed 

Some  maiden  whom  thou  mayest,  for  I  wed  not 

Except  the  sorrow  of  thy  love  and  mine.' 

And  Lancelot  in  reverence  bowed  and  said 

If  by  God's  grace  thou  hast  so  vowed  to  live 

Apart  from  all  the  world  in  sanctity, 

Then  here  before  God's  altar,  I  declare 

That  I,  henceforth,  will  give  myself  to  prayer. 

Farewell,  sweet  rose  of  womanhood,  Farewell ! 

Farewell  beloved  dream,  my  long  lost  love. 

No  more  I  see  thy  face  on  earth,  farewell. 

And  parting  with  these  words  he  left  the  Queen 

And  as  a  hermit  lived  for  six  brief  moons. 

Till  prayer  and  fasting  turned  his  soul  to  God. 

Then  taking  on  the  habit  of  a  priest 

In  loneliness  he  lived  near  Almsbury. 

And  when  at  length  the  fair  Queen  left  this  world 

To  share  eternal,  and  a  long  sought  peace 

The  Knight,  whom  once  on  earth  she  dearly  loved 

Sang  o'er  her  tomb  the  Requiem  of  the  Dead. 


M 


XXIX 


THE  ROSE  yfND   THE  LILY 


i 


^r 


Written  for  music 

THE  Rose  to  the  Lily  proudly  said 
'*  You  are  pale,  my  dear,"  then  tossed  her  head; 
"  Now  if  you  had  more  of  crimson  hue, 
*Tis  plain  more  lovers  would  come  to  sue; 
For  lovers  —  they  always  love  to  see 
A  maiden  blush  as  you  now  see  me ; 
While  you,  as  a  maiden  all  forlorn, 
Stand  icy  and  cold  this  sunny  mom. 
And  the  sun  smiles  fondly,  for  he  knows 
He  is  sure  of  welcome  from  the  Rose." 

The  Lily,  so  lowly,  bowed  her  head 

To  the  Rose,  and  then  all  sweetly  said, 

"  One  lover  I  have  who  loves  me  well ; 

We  meet  alone  when  the  vesper  bell, 

With  its  silver  tongue,  has  lulled  to  sleep 

The  birds  and  flow'rs;  and  silence  deep 

Steals  o'er  the  earth :  and  fragrance  rare 

From  the  tender  blossoms  fills  the  air. 

'Tis  then,  in  the  lovely  moonlight  pale, 

I  hear  the  notes  of  my  nightingale. 

And  we  dream  of  love,  while  all  is  still 

Save  only  the  murm'ring  crystal  rill. 

A  maiden  I  am,  and  long  to  be 

All  clothed  with  a  garb  of  purity ; 

While  the  moon  and  the  stars  both  smile  on  me 

As  my  lover  sings  on  yonder  tree ; 

And  I  blush  not  with  a  crimson  glow, 

Lest  his  liquid  music  cease  to  flow." 

The  Rose  blushed  with  a  deeper  red. 
And  haughtily  tossed  her  saucy  head ; 
But  the  Lily  stately  stood,  and  smiled 
On  the  Rose,  as  on  some  angry  child. 


xxz 


■  \- 


yiTA  NUOVA 

^npis  o'er:  the  dreary  night  of  restless  sleep, 

1     Dark  with  its  phantoms,  clouded  by  despair, 
Is  past ;  and  Spring,  the  gentle  messenger 
Of  hopes  undying,  and  of  joys  sublime. 
With  all  her  pent-up  treasures,  wakes  again, 
And  smiles  on  one  whose  wearied  eyes 
Well-nigh  had  closed  forever  to  the  light. 
O  beauteous  land  I     O  soul-enchanting  earth  I 
Melodious  with  the  hum  of  mortal  life : 
O  stately  hills  I     O  lowly  vales  I  that  wear 
The  lovely  garments  of  the  opening  spring; 
IIow  sweet  the  music  of  your  voice,  that  bids 
Me  rise  again,  and  free  myself  from  bonds 
That  bind  my  soul  in  fetters  to  the  flesh  1 
For  lo  I  the  winter  of  my  grief  is  o'er, 
And  I,  exuberant  in  the  joys  of  health. 
Once  more,  with  budding  spring,  return  to  life ; 
Once  more  I  mingle  in  the  strain  of  prsdse 
That  from  a  thousand  lips  ascends  the  throne 
Of  that  great  Power  Beneficent  who  holds 
The  key  of  human  life,  its  joys  its  woes, 
And  into  one  eternal  strain  attunes 
The  discord  of  our  ever-varying  life. 
The  past  is  o'er:  yet  would  I  of  the  past 
One  strain  divine  would  mingle  with  my  lot. 
To  raise  the  haunted  darkness  from  the  mind. 
And  paint  a  living  memory  in  those  hues. 
Companions  of  the  air  of  vernal  mom. 
But  Love  is  dead :  why  seek  again  to  raise. 
On  ruined  altars,  idols  of  the  past  1 


XXXI 


I 


If         ! 


VITA   NUOVA 

Or  vainly  strive  with  mortal  breath  to  fan 
Its  whitened  ashes  into  Love's  white  flame! 
But  rather,  listen  to  the  lyre  of  life, 
Attuned  afresh  to  kinder  themes  than  Love, 
That  moves  in  stately  cadence  to  the  pulse 
And  throb  of  everything  that  lives  and  breathes, 
Resolving  all  of  mortal  dissonance. 
Of  mortal  sorrow,  love,  of  mortal  woe, 
"To  one  eternal  and  most  lovely  strain"  — 
The  sum  of  human  suff'ring,  and  of  Love. 


xxxu 


h\ 


SIR  JOHN  A.  M/tCDOhlALD 

Lints  written  for  the  unveiling  of  the  monument  to 
the  late  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  John  A.  Macdonald, 
G.  C.  B.,  P.  C. 

"  Stat  sua  cuique  dies ;  breve  et  irreparabile  tempus 
Omnibus  est  vitae,  sed  famam  extendere  factis 
Hoc  virtutis  opus."  — Virgil. 

BRIEF  are  our  days  ;  the  heritage  of  man 
To  toil  and  suffer,  measures  but  a  span  1 
Ihe  golden  glory  of  the  noontide  hour, 
So  full  of  splendour  and  so  rich  in  power. 
Soon  passes  downward  to  the  deeper  shade. 
Where  all  its  radiant  beams  in  twilight  fade, 
And  issuing  Night,  upon  her  sombre  way, 
Veils  all  the  vanished  beauty  of  the  day. 

So  with  man's  life ;  for  one  brief  hour  the  crown 
In  lustre  glistens,  circled  with  renown ; 
Then  Death's  grim  spectre  dims  the  glorious  noon. 
And  leaves  a  void  and  darkness,  all  too  soon  I 

But  to  the  living  still  remains  a  debt ; 

In  loving  rev'rence  and  with  Love's  regret. 

To  keep  the  memory  by  such  deeds  of  praise 

In  honour  nurtured  through  the  range  of  days. 

Lo  I  here,  the  shadow  of  a  powerful  name 

Linked  to  the  glory  of  undying  Fame  I 

Lol  here,  the  monument  of  Love's  regret  — 

Of  sympathy  with  him  whose  sun  has  set ! 

In  Britain's  Isle,  'mid  England's  sons,  the  best, 

Her  noblest,  who  in  sculptured  marble  rest. 


xxxm 


F^ 


SIR  JOHN   A.   MACDONALD 

He  holds  a  place.     And  you  upon  this  ground 
Now  decked  with  flowers,  but  once  with  greensward 

crowned 
And  tablet,  sacred  to  the  cherished  dead. 
Unveil  this  Tribute  with  uncovered  head, 
As  witness  of  a  grateful  nation's  grief 
And  loving  memory  of  a  peerless  Chief. 

'Tis  but  the  outward  form,  seen  with  the  eyes 
Of  blind  mortality,  which  fades  and  dies. 
The  genius  and  the  hidden  force  which  swayed 
In  Council  and  in  Senate  undismayed, 
These  graven  are  upon  his  country's  heart. 
And  of  her  destiny  are  now  a  part. 

No  path  of  roses  trod  the  dauntless  Chief. 
His  labour  constant  and  his  leisure  brief; 
His  country's  honour  and  his  country's  good 
Were  dear  to  him,  and  strong  as  ties  of  blood. 
Such  was  the  Statesman  whom  we  all  deplore, 
Such  was  the  Leader  whose  grand  life  is  o'erl 
Here,  'neath  the  banner  which  he  loved  to  wave, 
Which  tracked  his  glory  even  to  the  grave, 
Behold  the  champion  of  a  noble  cause 
Now  silent  in  the  calm  of  Nature's  pause. 

No  more  the  music  of  his  eloquence 
Will  voice  the  words  of  ripe  intelligence; 
Though  still  the  essence  of  the  master  mind 
Unites  the  common  interest  of  mankind, 
Aloft  to  bear  the  standard  of  our  race, 
And  foremost  in  the  great  Olympus  place 
This  land  of  ours.    Thus  from  his  life  shall  spring 
Much  of  the  glory  which  the  years  will  bring. 


xxxiv 


KVV 


SIR  JOHN   A.   MACDONALD 

His  name  and  Canada's  fair  name  entwined 
Here  in  this  mute  memorial  are  enshrined! 
What  fitter  monument  could  Love  demand 
To  him,  the  kingliest  Leader  of  our  land! 

NoTB— The  monument  to  Sir  John  A  Macdonald 
on  Dominion  Square.  Montreal,  wat  unveiled  by  Hit 
Excellency  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen,  on  June  6,  1895. 


XXXV 


li- 


111 


IVHERE  SILENCE  LiyES^ 

i  STOOD  beside  the  everlasting  hills, 
Bathed  ir  the  silver  of  the  midnight  moon, 
And  mused  of  life,  its  many  mysteries. 
Its  triumphs,  failings,  and  its  final  aim. 
And  as  I  watched  the  summit  of  a  lofty  peak. 
Crowned  with  a  crown,  so  white  a  god  might  wear, 
I  saw  a  cloud  in  playful  humor  kiss 
Its  brow  inviolate,  then  vanish  —  where? 
And  soon  a  larger  cloud,  more  lovely  still, 
Enveloped  in  its  flowing-fleecy  folds 
The  frozen  throne  where  slumb'rous  Silence  lives. 
Therefrom,  perchance,  the  word  unspoken  oft 
On  Anjjels'  wings  hath  wandered,  winnowing 
The  souls  of  men,  white  for  the  sheaf  of  Death  — 
The  dark-robed  messenger  of  mournful      s. 
Then  all  was  still,  as  through  the  silence  stole 
The  last  faint  vestige  of  that  foam-like  cloud. 
Where  now  the  gathered  glory  from  that  throne  ? 
All  vanquished,  vanished  into  vapourous  night  I 
Alone,  in  lonely  grandeur,  cold  and  white, 
The  mountain  stood,  watched  over  by  the  moon, 
So  calm  and  pale,  methought  all  life  had  ceased. 
And  God  looked  on  the  world  ..hich  he  had  made. 


Thus  fancy  followed  fancy,  and  I  mused; 
How  oft  in  varied  walks  of  art,  man's  life 
Doth  soar  to  god-like  heights,  and  dwell  with  God, 
A  season,  lingering  lovingly  in  light, 


■t 


I  From  the  Canadian  Magazine. 


XXXVl 


WHERE  SILENCE   LIVES 

To  mirror  for  a  moment  here  on  earth 
The  image  of  the  life  Immaculate:  — 
A  moment,  then  a  moment's  memory. 

And  all  the  beauty  which  within  the  soul 
Lies  slumbering,  waiting  for  the  breath  Divine 
To  blossom  forth  in  fragrant  flowers  and  fill 
With  sweetest  incense,  life's  deep  loneliness ! 
Shall  this  then  wake  from  death-in-life  to  light, 
And  kiss  the  feet  of  God,  but  to  resolve 
In  shadow  and  a  moment's  memory  I 
Nay :  all  the  beauty  which  hath  been,  shall  be, 
And  greater,  when  hereafter,  God  and  man, 
And  man  as  God,  in  ceaseless  harmony, 
Upon  the  summit  of  the  mount  shall  dwell. 
Then  Time,  and  Place,  and  Life's  great  mystery, 
Dissolving  as  the  clouds,  shall  pass  and  leave 
The  throne  of  God  inviolate;  while  man. 
Part  of  the  beauty  which  hath  been,  shall  be 
The  glory  of  that  throne  perpetually. 


XXXVII 


M 


iii 


r 


>  I 


i^.i 


A  DREAM  OF  YOUTH 

SPRING  in  the  leaf-time  listens 
For  song  of  youth  and  maid, 
To  call  forth  into  splendour 
The  primrose  scented  glade  — 

To  fill  with  sweetest  incense 

The  censer  of  the  morn, 
While  melody  unbroken 

In  songs  of  love  is  bom. 

For  spring  herself  rejoices 
When  all  true  lovers  meet, 

And  scatters  in  her  bounty 
The  flowers  beneath  their  feet. 

Light  hearts  and  beaming  faces, 
Love  songs  and  tender  sighs. 

These  are  the  spring's  true  pleasures, 
The  sunlight  of  her  eyes. 

By  margin  of  still  waters, 
By  brook  or  babbling  stream, 

She  listens  for  the  laughter 
Of  love's  delicious  dream ; 

And  when  in  tender  sadness. 
Beneath  the  moonlight  pale, 

The  lovers  list  to  music 
Of  some  sweet  nightingale. 


TH 
Tl 
F( 

Bi 
T 

A 
T 


xxxviu 


THE   DREAM  OF  YOUTH 


Then  spring  withdraws  in  silence 
The  silver  lamps  of  night, 

For  love  heeds  not  the  darkness, 
Itself  the  source  of  light. 

But  soon  the  springtime  passes. 
And  on  the  youngest  tree. 

The  golden  tints  of  Autumn 
Will  linger  lovingly; 

And  soon  both  youth  and  maiden 
Must  learn  the  bitter  truth 

That  love,  not  life,  may  flourish 
Fresh  in  eternal  youth. 


m 


* 


XXXIX 


•    'I 


THE  PASSING  OF  TENNYSON 

(OCTOBER,  1892.) 

THE  moon  in  her  own  dying  glory  fades, 
And  from  thy  casement  half  withdraws  her  light; 
The  leaves  of  autumn,  touched  with  golden  hue, 
Are  softly  sighing  in  the  solemn  night; 
Whilst  thou,  the  glorious  minstrel  of  our  time, 
Whose  harp,  ^olian  toned,  awoke  such  strains 
As  swell  the  choral  anthems  of  the  heavens, 
Art  calmly  waiting  in  the  moonlight  pale 
For  dawn  of  golden  sunlight  that  precedes 
Thine  entry  to  undying  harmony. 

Farewell !  beloved  voice  that  sang  of  Truth, 
In  clearest  tones,  to  ever  noble  themes; 
That  mingled  with  the  earthly  song  a  strain 
Of  that  immortal  beauty  which  belongs, 
Not  to  this  earth,  but  an  unfading  land. 
Farewell !  thy  voice  still  lives,  its  echo  lasts, 
To  swell  the  glory  of  undying  fame. 


» 1 


xl 


^K» 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  MOTHER 

OBllT  DECEMBER  VI  MDCCCXC^l 
"  Beati  mortui  qui  in  Domino  moriuntur." 

THE  night  is  dark,  and  'neath  her  raven  wings 
Thy  form  is  folded  in  eternal  sleep! 
How  dark  the  night  of  death,  so  cold  and  chill 
And  frozen  fast  the  fountain  of  my  tears. 
I  cannot  hear  thee  speak !  and  sorrow  seals 
The  lips  that  now  would  form  themselves  in  prayer : 
Perchance  'tis  well,  for  no  discordant  voice 
Should  pierce  the  silence  of  thy  blessed  sleep. 
Yes,  all  is  well,  and  I  must  watch  and  wait 
Until  above  the  chant  of  Death  I  hear 
Immortal  music  melting  in  mine  ears. 

The  echo  of  a  voice  so  long-time  still. 

Then  shall  I  feel  that  love  whose  folds  can  fill, 
A  grave  with  glory,  and  a  heart  with  tears. 

January  2,  1S97. 


1* 


xli 


A  WELCOME 


Hi 


TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  SIR  WILFRED  LAURIER 
G.  C.  M.  G.  PREMIER  OF  CANADA 

Oh  bis  return  from  the  celebration   of  Her  Majesty's  Jubilee 
in  England 

THRICE-WELCOME  to  thy  native  land 
Of  stately  pines  and  maple-leaf  I 
Thrice-welcome,  honoured,  loyal  Chief, 
Thrice-welcome  to  thy  native  land. 

While  England's  banner  waves  above. 
The  sons  of  France  and  England  raise. 
The  voice  of  song  to  swell  thy  praise 

As  Leader  of  the  land  they  love ; 

And  loyal  pines,  beside  which  grow 
The  rose  and  lily  as  one  flower, 
Their  tribute  make  this  joyous  hour 

In  murmuring  music,  soft  and  low. 

Thrice-welcome  to  thy  native  land 
Of  stately  pines  and  maple-leaf : 
Thrice-welcome,  honoured,  loyal  Chief, 

I'hrice-welcome  to  thy  native  land. 


xlU 


A  FAREWELL 

BEFORE  the  Virgin's  altar  shrine 
Laden  with  flowers  of  purity ; 
Meet  offering  to  the  maid  divine, 
I  knelt  at  noon,  and  thought  of  thee. 

The  tender  blossoms  filled  the  air 
With  fragrance  sweet  as  sanctity. 

And  even  mingled  with  the  prayer. 
And  silence  of  my  love  for  thee. 

And  with  those  flowers  thy  name  111  twine. 
Henceforth,  through  years  of  loneliness, 

For  still  this  sad  lost  soul  of  mine 
Can  dream  of  perfect  loveliness. 

Farewell!  farewell!  but  for  a  day 

I  will  forget  thee  never. 
And  though  on  tide  of  time  I  stray, 

Forget  me  not  for  ever. 

Farewell,  farewell,  for  evermore 

For  ever  and  for  ever ! 
Farewell  I     I  see  thy  face  no  more 

For  ever,  and  for  ever. 


I: 

I 


:» 


xliii 


ii 


i^i 


Inf- 
ill 


ijSoS 


CROSSING  THE  BAR 

IN   IMITATfON   OF    TENNYSON 


I 

I 


I  n 


III 


SUNSET  of  golden  hue! 
The  signal  is  for  me ! 
No  gathering  cloud,  nor  storm  in  view 
As  I  approach  the  sea. 

Then  on  the  ocean's  calm,  unruffled  tide, 

My  fragile  bark  may  roam. 
For  faithful  on  all  seas  hath  been  the  guide, 

Who  now  steers  home. 

Twilight,  and  silvery  belli 

Soon  come  the  deeper  shades ! 
Oh  may  no  tear  drop  mingle  in  farewell 

As  my  bark  fades ! 

For  though  I  oft  have  drifted  in  life's  race 

Far  from  my  home,  afar, 
I  know  my  pilot's  loving  face 

Is  watching  'cross  the  Bar. 


Li 


xliv 


tf 


TO  ETHELREDA 

WINDS  are  with  the  willows  weeping, 
Love  lies  low  I 
Snow-drops  in  their  grief  are  peeping 
Through  the  snow  1 

Mournful  music  from  my  lyre  I 

Darkness  and  gloom  I 
Vanished  all  its  sacred  fire, 

In  yonder  tomb  1 

Cold  upon  her  virgin  forehead 

Sleeps  the  long,  last  loving  kiss. 

Cold,  beside  the  love  there  buried 

Sleeps  a  dream  of  earthly  bliss. 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars  above, 

Weep  while  I  weep  I 
Lilies,  alone,  in  love 

With  her,  may  sleep. 

Frozen  kisses,  snow  flakes  falling 

Melt  in  tears  of  pain  I 
From  the  heavens  white  souls  are  calling 

Hers  to  life  again. 

Low  lies  her  lovely  head  I 

Sleep,  maiden,  sleep  I 
Death  trembles,  and  the  dead 

Leave  her  in  sleep. 


Lf 


xlv 


Fy4R  AiyAY,  FAR 


l# 


f 


Far  off,  in  loneliness,  far  away,  far. 
Gleams  in  the  heavens  a  glorious  star. 
In  the  purple  of  God,  when  the  moonlight  is  low, 
And  the  breath  of  the  flowers  fills  the  silence  below; 
Through  the  mist  and  the  music  of  sorrow  and  pain 
Comes  the  infinite  sweetness  of  loving  again 

As  I  see  midst  the  clouds,  though  far  away  far, 
The  face  of  my  love  as  a  gentle  star. 


m\ 


if   .     ) 


11.    .     ( 


xlvi 


THE  LIFELESS  FLOIVER 

THE  fragrance  from  the  flower  is  flown, 
No  more  its  sweetness  breathes  of  thee  I 
The  little  life  it  lived,  is  gone : 

It  lived  and  died,  and  but  for  thee. 

A  fragile,  lifeless,  vacant  flower, 

It  sleeps  forgotten  and  forlorn 
Its  colour  faded,  and  its  power 

To  please,  for  evermore  is  shorn. 

Yet  it  shall  in  remembrance  live 
The  dearest  treasure  of  my  heart ; 

Thy  memory  life  to  it  shall  give 
Which  only  death  itself  can  part. 

Mute  emblem  of  a  deeper  love 

Which  slumbering  lies  within  my  breast, 
I'll  tend  it,  even  as  that  love. 

For  it  was  once  by  love  caressed. 


"i 


xlvii 


j4  yiSlON  OF  THE  NIGHT^ 

IN  the  silent  hours  of  slumber, 
Walk  the  is  about  my  bed, 

Weaving  fancl         the  living 
With  the  memories  of  the  dead. 

Quickly,  with  the  moments  fleeting, 
Pleasures  vanish  one  by  one ; 

Deeper  grows  my  desolation  — 
Soon  the  setting  of  the  sun. 

From  the  bosom  of  deep  waters, 
Touched  with  glories  of  the  moon, 

Voices  seem  forever  sighing, 
"  Life  itself  will  vanish  soon." 

Dimly  dawn,  bcond  the  shadows, 
Visions  of  '         Id  to  come  — 

Love,  enthro'  golden  pinions. 

Crowning  an  iiiysium. 

In  the  unveiled  perfect  beauty 
Of  great  Nature's  noblest  mould. 

Youth  and  maiden  —  Love's  creation  — 
Dream  the  dreams  the  gods  unfold. 

Venus  for  Adonis  weeping. 

Feels  Love's  pleasures  and  its  pains, 
In  exulting  gifts  of  nature 

Coursing  through  her  youthful  veins. 


I  From  the  Canadian  Magazine. 


xlviii 


i 


A   VISION   OF  THE   NIGHT 

Twining  rose,  or  blending  lily, 
Cupid's  children  round  her  play, 

Wreathed  in  garland  groups  of  gladness, 
Whirling  their  sweet  lives  away, 

To  the  rhythm  of  some  movement, 
Not  of  earth  — some  magic  strain  — 

Surely  these  are  souls  immortal? 
Not  the  phantoms  of  the  brain  I 

Thus  I  muse,  and  for  an  answer. 
Comes  the  weird  and  sad  refrain, 

«'  Slowly,  slowly,  pleasures  vanish 
Never  to  return  again." 

Then  upon  the  angry  billows, 

Lol  a  fragile  bark  appears 
Riding  in  majestic  silence: 

To  my  feet  the  helmsman  steers. 

Save  the  sadness  of  the  ocean 
All  is  still,  and  cold,  and  dark, 

As  upon  an  unknown  voyage, 
I,  in  loneliness,  embark. 

Death's  dark  angel  grimly  smiling, 
Tells  me  of  a  wondrous  shore : 

Doom,  its  radiant  glories  mingles, 
With  the  days  that  are  no  more. 

Fast  the  scenes  of  earth  are  fading ; 

All  my  soul  is  sunk  in  fear ; 
Wild,  fantastic  shapes,  and  visions ; 

Gruesome  figures  hover  near. 


i 


xlix 


A   VISION   OF  THE  NIGHT 

In  my  woe  and  desperation, 

Of  the  pilot  I  implore 
"  Mystic  being,  in  thy  mercy. 

Whither  drift  we  ?    To  what  shore  ?  " 

But  no  answer,  only  silence  — 
Gathering  strength  to  make  reply: 

Then,  a  crashing  peal  of  thunder 
Rends  the  purple  vault  on  high. 

Through  the  lurid  lightning's  pathway 
Brightly  gleams  the  distant  plain. 

Where  in  virgin  charms  reposing. 
Maidens  chant  the  sad  refrain. 

"  Slowly,  slowly,  pleasures  vanish, 

Never  to  return  again ; 
Slowly,  slowly,  life  is  ebbing. 

Mortal  tears  and  hopes  are  vain." 

Deeper  grows  my  desolation ; 

Still  I  vow  the  shore  to  gain. 
But  a  shaft,  from  Jove  descending. 

Cleaves  my  fragile  bark  in  twain. 


• 

SING,  oh  I  sing  that  song  again, 
Tinged  with  pleasure,  and  with  pain. 
Let  those  perfect  lips  of  thine 
Music  make  of  themes  divine. 
Sing,  but  softly  sweet  and  low, 
Zd-q  IMV  ffhs  iyairw. 

In  the  sparkle  of  thine  eyes 
Bums  that  fire  which  never  dies. 
Tell  me  if  thy  heart  can  share 
In  the  love  for  thee  I  bear; 
Love  me  not ;  yet  even  so 
Zd)r]  iMV  a-ds  dyairu. 

By  the  heaving  of  thy  breast 
I  may  read  thy  soul's  unrest. 
Let  me  on  thy  bosom  lie 
1  here  I  would  most  gladly  die, 
For  in  dying  thou  would'st  know 
Zi6rj  /xoO  ffki  dyairQ, 

In  those  pure  white  arms  entwined 
By  thy  virgin  love  enshrined 
Seal  upon  my  brow  one  kiss, 
I  would  give  my  soul  for  this. 
Tell  me  yes,  or  tell  me  no. 
Zdr}  (Mv  ffis  d7a7r«. 

In  my  dreams  I  hear  a  song, 
I  have  listened  for  so  long 
Sung  by  those  sweet  lips  of  thine, 
Yielding  all  thy  soul  to  mine  — 
Sing,  but  softly,  sweet  and  low 
Zw^  IMV  ffAs  dyairQ. 


>V  «• 


'1^ 


li 


i 


TO  SIR  JAMES  MACPHERSON  LP  MOINE 
F.  R.  S.  C. 

HISTORIAN  OF  QUEBEC 


My  dear  Sir  James : 

Since  no  song  of  mine  could  add 
lustre  to  your  tirae-honoured  name,  accept  my 
version  of  three  lines  from  a  time-honoured  poet, 
whose  tender  pathos  and  modern  spirit  dwell  in 
the  life  of  more  than  two  thousand  years  ago. 

A.  G.  D. 


■ 


iaO'Kwv  yepiaOai,  Kairl  iJi€il;ov  ^pxerai 
rrjs  eiyevelai  6vofm  roiaiv  Allots.' 

Euripides  Hec.  379, 


Clear  and  defined  the  injpress  of  the  die 
Which  noble  birth  confers,  yet  stronger  still 
When  virtue  aids  to  perfect  Nature's  work. 


n 


lii 


m 


TO  PRINCESS  VICTORU  MARY  OF  TECK 

{JULY  6,  1893.) 


<<T^ 


HE  bridal  garland  falls  upon  the  bier," 
So  sang  the  plaintive  voice  of  England's  bard 
E'er  yet  he  passed  to  that  pure  light 
Where  vanish  all  the  shadows  cast  by  Death. 

Princess,  for  you  that  garland  blooms  again, 

And  falling  on  a  brother's  love,  in  one 

Shall  bind  the  loves  of  lost  and  living  love. 

And  on  this  mom,  when  joyous  marriage  bell 

Makes  tuneful  music  over  hill  and  dale, 

Its  echo  rolls  along  th'  eternal  shore 

Where,  happy  in  the  love  he  bare  to  you, 

His  soul,  in  finer  light,  now  shares  with  him, 

His  brother,  in  the  mystic  bond  of  love ; 

Until,  hereafter,  when  the  Sun  of  Love 

Shall  wreathe  in  gariands  fairer  flowers  than  earth's, 

The  soul  of  brother,  husband,  and  of  wife. 

Shall  dwell  as  one,  where  no  discordance  reigns. 

And  love,  in  an  Eternal  Harmony. 


lUi 


TO    THE  MEMORY  OF  TRINCE  HENRY 
OF  TiATTENBERG 

SLEEP  noble  soul!  while  coldly  on  thy  brow 
The  dark-robed  angel  seals  thy  latest  vow, 
To  fight  for  England,  and  her  foes  defy. 
To  live  for  England,  or  for  her  to  die. 
Sleep  I  faithful  soul,  the  victor's  course  is  run, 
By  thy  resolve  the  laurel  wreath  is  won. 
*Tis  hearts  like  thine  which  vanquished  foes  have  met; 
'Tis  hearts  like  thine  which  bounds  to  Empire  set. 
Sleep  I  for  the  memory  of  thy  vow  shall  be 
Thy  glory  and  thy  crown,  perpetually. 

March,  1896. 


liv 


U- 


»___, 


Iv 


iiiH 


i! 


t; 


A  CHILD'S  TRAYER 
To  M.  "B.  H. 

AVE  Maria!    Hear  my  prayer. 
O  teach  me  how  thy  love  to  share, 
For  since  my  lips  could  lisp  thy  name, 
My  heart  has  yearned  ;hy  love  to  claim. 


f 


TO  MISS  JANE  NEWMAN 

IT  is  the  hour  when  Nature  sleeps; 
That  interval  of  nameless  peace, 
When  sounds  of  mortal  voices  cease 
And  Love,  alone,  his  vigil  keeps. 

Then  from  the  shadows,  where  the  Hours 
And  Dreams  hold  converse  with  the  Night, 
A  vestal  virgin,  clothed  in  white. 

Arises  from  the  fragrant  flowers. 

And  one  soft  voice  falls  on  the  ear, 

In  music  of  forgotten  themes. 

Which  haunt  the  soul  as  heavenly  dreams 
And  force  the  sad,  half  joyous  tear; 

Like  an  .^olian  harp  which  sings 

Its  sweet  nocturnal  melody. 

As  restless  winds,  unceasingly. 
Recall  to  life  its  quivering  strings. 

A  voice  which  soothes  life's  deepest  pain. 
Which  calms  the  anguish  of  the  breast. 
And  lulls  the  weary  soul  to  rest 

And  faith  in  dreams  of  love,  again. 

And  thine  the  virgin  face  I  see : 

To  thee  those  heaven-born  gifts  belong, 
O  sing  again  some  tender  song. 

And  bring  my  youth  once  more  to  me ! 


( 

G 
V 

\ 


Ivi 


V 


IN  MEMORIAM  E.  F.  H. 

OALL  eternal  Wisdom,  from  whom  flows 
The  secret  fountain  of  all  human  love, 
Grant  that  the  golden  link  of  friendship  pure, 
Which  bound  two  souls  on  this  bright  earth  as  one, 
May  be  the  foretaste  of  a  holier  bond 
Where  all  are  pure,  and  love  is  understood. 


Ivii 


i^l 


I  i 


F/tNCY  AND  IM /I  GIN  AT  ION 

OUR  Fancy  roams  with  earth's  revolving  scenes 
And  gathers  solace  from  the  things  of  time, 
E'en  as  the  bee  draws  from  the  passing  flower 
Its  sweetness,  moving  on  from  bloom  to  bloom. 
But  fond  Imagination  finds  no  rest, 
A  pilgrim,  lost  awhile  upon  this  earth. 
Yet  ever  striving  through  the  things  of  time 
To  reach  her  native  land,  her  home  in  heaven 


Iviii 


MMiii 


HELEN    AND   APHRODITE 


^ 


U' 


'! 


W 


HttHBHUi 


■H 


TO  HILDA   LANGTON 


'Born  Sept.  lo,  1868 
•Died  Sept.  10,  i8j8 

Tliy  memory  with  this  verse  shall  be  entwined 
That  he  who  on  its  lines  may  chance  to  gaze 
First  Hilda's  name  shall  there  behold  enshrined. 


II  - 


|i 


•1  i 


ty 


THRICE  happy  were  those  tender  years  of  thine, 
So  full  of  promise  in  a  gracious  spring, 
That  even  now  there  gathers  round  thy  shrine 
The  image  of  what  future  years  would  bring. 
For  thine  was  beauty  hourly  ripening 
On  this  dull  earth  for  some  more  lovely  sky. 

0  dream  beyond  fond  love's  imagining 

1  weep  not,  for  thy  soul  may  never  die 

Though  in  the  silent  grave  thy  perfect  form  must  lie  I 


.li 


HELEN  AND  APHRODITE 


1 

k 


THREE  suns  had  set  since  that  momentous  hour 
When  Paris  roamed  the  slopes  of  Ida's  mount, 
And  seeking  shelter  from  the  noonday  heat, 
Had  sunk  to  slumber  in  a  sylvan  bower. 
Here  Aphrodite  and  Athene  met, 
With  Hera,  lovely  in  her  rainbow  hues. 
And  each  had  bared  her  pure  white  limbs,  each  charm 
From  golden  head,  and  snow-white  breasts,  to  where 
Her  feet,  like  ivory,  nestled  in  the  ferns. 
And  Paris,  waking  from  his  blissful  dreams 
Drank  in  the  beauty  of  those  maidens  three 
Till  every  pulse  was  quickened,  and  his  frame 
Was  thrilled  with  passion,  all  unknown  before. 
Then  Aphrodite  softly  spoke,  and  said ; 
"  Since  by  the  wisdom  of  the  gods'  decree 
To  you  'tis  given  to  crown  with  beauty's  crown 
The  fairest  goddess  of  the  present  three; 
Now  give  the  prize  to  me,  and  for  thy  bride 
Shalt  be  the  fairest  maid  this  world  doth  know." 
Then  Hera  in  voluptuous  beauty  posed 
Before  the  youth,  and  spake  in  liquid  tones, 
"  The  fruit  of  discord  by  the  goddess  thrown 
To  me  as  Queen  among  the  queens,  belongs ; 
Place  in  my  hands  the  golden  fruit,  and  thou, 
A  kingdom,  and  its  wealth,  shalt  own,  and  sway;" 

Next  came  Athene,  in  her  strength  divine. 
Whose  arm  the  thunders  from  the  heavens  can  hurl ; 
Whose  ear  to  gentle  love  inclines ;  who  weaves 
The  arts  of  warfare  in  the  weft  of  peace. 


■    I 


IxiU 


HELEN    AND   APHRODITE 


si 


f'U 


In  stately  grandeur,  conscious  of  the  flame 

Immortal  beauty  in  a  mortal  wakes 

She  plied  her  subtle  arts,  while  silence  fanned 

The  heat  of  passion  surging  through  his  veins. 

Then  in  soft  tones,  sweet  in  each  whispered  word 

She  claimed  his  gift,  and  thus  addressed  the  youth  : 

•'  Behold,  in  me  alone,  the  mystic  power, 

To  crown  with  triumph  feais  of  arms  in  war; 

Give  me  the  prize,  and  I  will  bind  for  thee 

The  laurel  wreath  which  decks  the  victor's  brow." 

But  Paris,  mindful  of  the  task  imposed, 

Withdrew  in  silence,  for  within  his  breast 

The  tumult  of  his  passions  waged  fierce  war. 

And  Aphrodite,  as  in  sadness  stood. 

With  tear  stained  face,  more  eloquent  than  words 

And  smiling  through  her  tears  looked  on  the  youth, 

Who  rose,  and  called  her  to  his  side,  and  said — 

"To  you,  the  Queen  of  Love,  whom  I  embrace 

The  golden  fruit  is  given.     For  evermore 

The  crown  of  beauty  crowns  the  brow  of  love." 

So  Paris  filled  with  ecstacy  divine 

With  Aphrodite  wandered  through  the  woods 

As  in  a  dream,  lost  to  all  thought,  but  love. 

The  moon  had  vanished,  and  a  single  star 
In  loneliness  watched  in  the  vault  of  heaven 
(For  love  needs  not  the  light  of  sun  or  moon 
Too  full  the  measure  of  its  depth  for  light) 
When  Paris,  mindful  of  the  promise  made 
By  Aphrodite,  yet  three  suns  gone  by. 
Arose,  and  crossed  to  Lacedaemon's  shore. 
Where  Helen,  worshipped  as  a  queen,  abode 
With  Menelaus  and  Hermione. 


IP 


Ixiv 


BHHHi 


DBMS 


T 


HELEN    AND   APHRODITE 

And  Menelaus  called  for  goodly  wine 

To  welcome  Paris,  and  their  mirth  ran  high 

Till  echo  answered  echo  through  the  halls. 

And  long  they  tarried  o'er  the  flowing  cup 

While  flaming  braziers  lit  the  festive  board. 

Then  as  the  shades  of  night  crept  on  apace 

The  maidens  strewed  the  beds  with  purple  o'er 

And  Paris  and  the  King  fell  in  deep  sleep. 

But  not  so  Helen ;  long  the  hours  wore  on 

Nor  sleep  o'ertook  her,  till  the  rosy  dawn 

Was  watching  to  unloose  the  gates  of  day. 

Then  a  great  wonder  midst  the  orbs  was  seen, 

And  Hesper-Phosphor,  sweetest  star  of  heaven 

Which  lingers  o'er  the  setting  sun,  and  sees 

His  rise  to  glory  with  the  dawn  of  day. 

Turned  pale ;  for  midst  a  gorgeous  burst  of  flame 

The  Queen  of  Love  appeared,  with  myrtle  crowned. 

And  lo  I  her  swan-drawn  chariot  flashed  and  gleamed 

Along  the  pathway  of  the  starry  sky 

And  paused,  where  Laceda;mon's  palace  rose. 

And  Helen,  trembling  at  the  glowing  light 

From  off  her  couch  arose,  for  well  knew  she 

That  radiance  other  than  of  mortal  birth. 

Then  Aphrodite,  lovely,  but  with  soul 

As  cold  as  marble,  save  to  touch  of  love 

Stood  on  a  fleecy  cloud,  poised  in  mid-air, 

Bewildering  soul  and  sense,  even  desire. 

Well  might  a  mortal  dream  to  die  were  bliss 

If  dying  he  might  her  but  once  embrace ! 

Silently,  smiling  with  that  smile  which  sits 

Upon  her  lovely  lips,  and  lingers  ihere, 

She  gazed  on  Helen,  who  with  downcast  eyes 

Besought  the  queen,  her  life,  her  love,  to  spare. 


I 


Ixv 


HELEN   AND   APHRODITE 


i 


But  still  the  silence,  and  no  answer  came. 

Then  Helen  rose  with  anger  in  her  eye 

And  half  appalled  the  goddess  by  her  gaze. 

"  What  wilt  thou  f "  said  she,  "seek  again  the  shades 

Of  Ida's  pines,  or  where  Adonis  waits 

Thy  wanton  love,  if  love  be  fitting  name 

For  loves  as  countless  as  the  countless  sands  I 

Ah !  leave  me  I  leave  me  to  my  peace  and  love. 

For  I  am  purer  than  the  spotless  down 

On  yonder  snow-white  swan  !     Why  seek  to  mar 

Mine  honour,  or  to  make  my  name  a  sound 

Of  loathing  to  my  lord,  the  noble  King? 

Hast  thou  no  memory  of  my  childish  years 

When  by  Eurotas'  stream  I  used  to  play 

In  loving  gambols  with  my  brothers  twain. 

And  Clytemnestra!     Was  I  more  than  child 

When  the  Athenian-Theseus  wrought  my  shame, 

And  I,  a  maiden  still,  save  by  the  deed 

Unsought,  unwished,  became  the  scourge,  the  bane 

Of  mine  own  land  i     For  now  no  blood  can  purge 

My  name,  once  spotless  as  fresh  fallen  snow ! " 

Then  Helen  ceased,  and  Aphrodite  smiled, 

Ere  from  her  lips  the  liquid  music  rolled, 

Which  calms  the  anger  in  all  mortal  breasts 

And  wooes  e'en  virtue  by  its  dulcet  tones : 

"  Fair  child,  ere  since  a  babe,  I  loved  thee  well, 

And  on  this  day  my  love  I  come  to  prove. 

Now  dry  those  tears,  thy  lovely  eyes  should  beam 

With  sparks  of  love,  for  in  thy  veins  there  flows 

The  purple  blood  of  an  immortal  sire. 

From  Nemesis  and  from  the  Swan,  art  thou  1 

Why  tarry  here  the  toy  of  mortal  loid. 

Or  fold  in  thine  embrace  a  form  of  clay  I 


Ixvi 


iM.il 


"  V   '^1 


•J 


TE 


HELEN   AND   APHRODITE 


IH 


What  honour  waits  for  those,  whose  honour  dwells 

In  mortal  breasts  ?     Why,  beauty  such  as  thine 

Awakes  the  music  of  the  sacred  Nine, 

Who  on  Parnassus  by  Apollo  led 

Shall  hymn  thy  praises  to  the  lute  and  lyre 

And  stamp  thy  glory,  deathless  as  the  stars  I 

Thou,  queen,  immortal  in  thy  birth  should'st  share 

The  fond  embrace  cf  an  immortal  spouse! 

Thy  crimson  cheeks,  and  heaving  breasts,  e'en  now 

Are  telltale  of  thy  birth,  and  the  desire 

Of  love  more  ardent  than  to  mortals  known. 

But  slumber  now,  and  undisturbed  by  dreams 

All  through  the  day,  and  watches  of  the  night. 

For  when  Aurora's  rosy  chariot  rolls 

Along  the  pathway  of  the  starry  way 

Thou  shalt  return  from  sleep,  to  joyous  life." 

Then  Sleep,  at  Aphrodite's  summons,  came 

BoiOe  on  soft  breezes  from  Lemnian  isle 

And  paused,  till  Helen  on  her  couch  reclined ; 

Then  gently  —  in  his  office  ever  kind  — 

He  laid  the  poppies  on  her  wavering  lids 

And  lulled  her  as  a  little  child,  to  sleep. 

And  Aphrodite  loosed  her  zone,  and  lo ! 

The  face  of  Helen  grew  divinely  fair 

More  lovely  even  than  the  queen  of  Love. 

Now  when  the  sun  was  high,  the  King  arose 
And  left  with  Paris,  all  in  haste  to  gain 
The  slopes  of  Mount  Taygetus,  there  to  drive 
The  wandering  deer,  and  breathe  the  mountain  air. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  through  the  palace  rang 
The  laughter  of  the  maidens  and  their  song, 
But  still  the  Queen  appeared  not,  and  they  said 
"  Why  tarries  thus  our  Queen  ?    Doth  gentle  sleep 


i  t 


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1 


il 


Ixvii 


HELEN   AND  APHRODITE 


T 


\. 


t 


I't' 


n 


Still  weave  for  her  the  garland  of  bright  dreams?" 

And  when  the  hour  of  noon  had  long  passed  by, 

They  sought  the  little  child  Ilermione, 

And  led  her  to  the  chamber,  knowing  well 

The  music  of  her  voice  would  banish  sleep. 

And  round  her  loving  mother's  couch  she  played 

Unheeded,  till  at  length  in  fear  she  wept. 

And  when  the  maidens  answering  to  her  cries 

The  chamber  reached,  and  failed  to  rouse  the  Queen 

They  bowed  their  heads,  and  said  "our  Queen  is  borne 

To  Euna's  plains,  with  fair  Persephone." 

A  gloom  hung  o'er  the  palace,  as  a  shroud 
And  muffled  voices  sang  in  mournful  tones 
The  praise  of  Helen  and  her  wondrous  charm. 
And  Paris  and  the  King,  returning  heard 
The  sound  of  dirge  above  the  silence  rise, 
And  marvelled  much,  though  neither  spake  one  word 
For  unknown  dread  had  checked  the  power  of  speech. 
Then  Menelaus  as  beneath  a  spell 
Drew  near  the  palace  where  the  mourners  wept, 
And  heeded  not  the  child  Hermione, 
Who  in  her  tender  love  had  sought  to  share 
The  burden  of  his  grief,  and  ease  his  pain. 
Within  the  chamber  where  the  Queen  still  slept 
The  King  withdrew  and  watched,  and  wept  alone 
Till  grief  outwore  his  body  and  he  slept. 

Now  when  the  daughter  of  the  dawn  prepared 
To  steer  her  chariot  through  the  trackless  sky : 
That  time  the  gold  and  amber  cloud  flocks  wait 
Impatiently  to  bear  her  company, 
Fair  Helen,  radiant  as  the  morn  arose, 
And  light  of  heart,  in  love  with  health  and  youth. 
No  memory  lingered  of  unhappy  hours, 


Ixviii 


ii 


^E 


HELEN   AND   APHRODITE 


»e 


No  thought  of  evil,  present,  or  to  come 

For  o'er  her  soul  there  crept  in  pure  delight 

A  sense  of  nameless  beauty,  sensuous  calm  - 

Which  steeps  the  spirits  in  Elysium. 

And  seeking  out  a  crystal  stream  she  bathed. 

And  bound  her  wealth  of  waving  golden  hair, 

And  robed  herself  in  garment,  which  of  old 

Athene  wrought,  gift  of  immortal  hand. 

And  ever  from  the  thick-set  boughs,  the  birds 

In  joyous  song  poured  forth  their  meed  of  praise. 

And  Helen  sank  amid  the  flowers,  and  mused 

Of  nature  and  her  never  ceasing  charms, 

And  blushed  to  think  of  that,  she  dared  not  speak. 

Yet  felt  in  every  breath,  in  every  pulse. 

And  as  she  plucked  the  petals  from  the  flowers 

To  cast  them  slowly  in  the  limpid  stream, 

She  saw  upon  the  surface  crystalline 

1  he  mirrored  purple  of  the  flowing  robe 

Which  clothed  the  god-like  Paris,  at  her  side. 

And  either  gazed  on  other  for  awhile 

As  if  expectant  of  some  unknown  joy. 

Then  smile  met  smile,  and  answered  with  a  smile, 

And  thought  unchecked,  resolved  itself  in  kiss, 

And  dreaming,  in  each  other's  arms  entwined, 

No  thought  disturbed  them,  save  the  thought  of  love. 

And  Aphrodite,  ever  hovering  near. 

Assumed  the  garb  of  ^thra,  and  thus  spake:— 

"  'Tis  here,  between  the  lily  and  the  rose 

Ye  first  have  known  the  meaning  of  delight. 

Yet  danger  lurks  for  those  who  tarry  long. 

While  bliss  awaits  the  answer  to  my  call. 

Now  seek  thy  ship  within  the  Gythian  bay 

And  pass  thy  life  as  in  a  beauteous  dream. 


M 


f 


V- 


Ixix 


HELEN   AND   APHRODITE 

Then  Paris,  at  the  voice  of  Mthra,  rose 
And  passed  beneath  her  veil  unto  the  ship. 
And  Helen  followed  gladly,  for  she  thought 
Of  Paris  as  a  god,  who  called  in  love. 
Nor  mused  of  ill,  for  how  could  evil  dwell 
Within  a  breast  as  spotless  as  the  snow  I 
And  happy  in  each  other's  company 
They  ploughed  the  furrows  of  the  ocean's  plain, 
While  Doris,  Doto,  and  Amphimone 
Made  bridal  music  to  the  murmuring  sea. 


i' 

-  ( 


'ilk  4& 

If- 


Thus  Helen  passed  from  her  own  shores  awhile 

By  will  of  Aphrodite,  wanton  queen ; 

Until  once  more,  in  the  Elysian  plain 

Where  falls  not  rain,  or  snow,  and  tears  are  not. 

With  Menelaus  and  Hermione 

She  wore  again  her  crown,  and  reigned  as  queen 

Worshipped  by  maidens  for  her  purity; 

Immortal  in  her  glory  and  enshrined 

Throughout  all  ages,  as  a  perfect  type 

Of  virgin  beauty  and  of  virgin  love. 


IP 


' 


'U>orft0  of  (^vt^uv  ©♦  'BoMQ^t^ 


\i 


TENNYSON,  liis  Life  and  Works,  containing  a  biograph- 
ical sketch,  an  analysis  of  the  "Idylls  of  the  King," 
"  In  Memoriam,"  the  Dramatic  Works,  and  a  review 
of  the  "Death  of  (Enone,"  with  three  plates.  Lon- 
don, 1893 ^250 

ROSE  LEAVES,  a  collection  of  simple  verses,  written  on 
various  occasions.    London,  1894.      .      .      .        f  a.oo 

THE  SONG-STORY  OF  FRANCESCO  AND 
BEATRICE,  illuminated  on  Vellum  by  Arthur  G. 
Doughty,  with  six  illustrations  by  F.  S.  Holiday. 

IDYLLS  OF  THE  KING,  by  Alfred  Lord  Tennyson, 
engraved  in  shorthand,  by  A.  G.  Doughty.  Sometime 
of  New  Inn  Hall,  Oxon,  with  seven  original  drawings 
by  Hv.  Sandham,  R.  C.  A.,  and  reproduction  of  auto- 
graph letter  of  the  Poet  Laureate.    Montreal,  1889. 


I  have  read  your  appreciative  essay 

on  "  The  Foresters  "  with  which  I  heartily  agree, 
and  I  hope  soon  to  have  time  to  read  your 
other  chapters.  Yours  faithfully, 

Tennyson. 


As  curious  a  token  of  respect  as  was  ever 
paid  to  the  genius  of  a  favorite  author.  This 
IS  a  handsome  edition  of  the  "  Idylls  of  the 
King"  engraved  in  shorthand  by  Arthur  G. 
Doughty,  adorned  with  some  really  excellent 
illustrations. 

The  Rev.  A.  J.  Church,  M.  A., 

In  "The  Laureate's  County." 


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